


blue moon rising

by Narkito



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Season/Series 10 Finale, TW: Panic Attacks, tw: suicidal ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:20:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23570722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narkito/pseuds/Narkito
Summary: Before it gets better, it will get much, much worse. Post finale fix-it, of sorts.(Finished!)
Relationships: Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams
Comments: 90
Kudos: 257





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I'll fix it eventually, we will get there. 
> 
> In the mean time these are the warnings: mentions of suicide, clinically depressed character, panic attacks.

"You said you would call, " Danny starts, not even bothering to say hello.

"No, I asked if you had a phone and invited you to call me."

There's a challenge in Steve's voice, and it makes him so angry and tired at the same time.

"Right, right, you did," he answers, deflated.

"Yeah, I did," Steve replies, short and brusque.

It rubs Danny the wrong way, it reminds him of those awful days after the nuclear disaster, when Catherine left Steve, and in between bone marrow treatments and Charlie-related meltdowns, Steve would take it out on him, and then shrug and pretend like he wasn’t hurting Danny by it. 

"Okay, babe, I'm calling. How's your treasure hunt for inner peace going?" He doesn't mean to, but some of the hurt slips through and he just knows Steve will back even further away, which is the exact opposite of what Danny wants. 

There’s an uncomfortable pause, tense. And then, "look, Danno, you caught me at a tricky time. I'll get back to you, okay?"

It makes him want to scream.

"Oh, sure, like—

Steve ends the call.

—you did las time. _Fuck."_

Danny buries his face in his hands, still holding the phone. The edge of the screen digs into his forehead. His eyes prickle, straining to not overflow with unbidden frustration and sadness. Why does he have to love people who are so unreachable in every way?

"Hey, boss?!" Tani calls from the hall. Forcibly puling him back to the present and out of his head. Back into the real world.

He composes himself and takes a deep breath before stepping out of his office, Steve's office. He might have left the proverbial keys to Cole, but the governor was not about to let that happen, and with good reason. Unstable SEALs do more harm than good in the end. Specially the ones that are still very much in trouble with the law.

Okay, enough self-pity. It will pass. Just like everything else has before.

He steps into the table room, smoothing the front of his shirt, phone still in his hand.

"Okay, what's the deal with our guy?"

By the time he gets home it's too late to cook, his stomach hurts from hunger and there's nothing remotely edible in his kitchen. A quick look at the clock yields more horrible results, there's nothing open to order from. And a trip to the closest convenience 24/7 store is out of the question, lest he doesn’t mind wrapping his rental car around a tree.

He opens the fridge anyway, for something to do, and picks at an old carton of Chinese, from which he manages to salvage a few bites of chicken. He throws out the rest.

He checks his phone out of duty, but there's no call, no message, no nothing. Figures. There's barely been a few aborted conversations and missed "heys" as text messages the past few weeks. At some point after a month away, Steve just cut him off. Or maybe he did, who knows, it’s hard to keep track of everything and everyone sometimes.

Still hungry, and vaguely disgusted with himself, he goes to bed. He doesn't even bother to change into pyjamas, bowing to scrub himself extra hard in the shower next morning.

He's suffocating, he's screaming, he's on fire. He startles awake.

It takes him a minute to get his bearings and realise he's home. 

There’s a dull pain in his abdomen. A faint pang of ghost pain in his chest. Several doctors have already told him there's nothing wrong with him. Nothing at all. They gave him painkillers, they gave him anti-inflammatories, they gave him PT, they threw the words trauma and psychosomatic around, and it bounced inside his head like a threat, so he immediately experienced a miraculous recovery in the end. But it still hurts. Ghost and feathery like, a few times in the past month like a dull ball of fire slowly eating him at him from the inside out.

He gets out of bed to drink a glass of water from the bathroom, and promptly pukes it all out.

The dull pain becomes full-fledged daggers in his lower abdomen, and he knows perfectly well what comes next.

At five in the morning, exhausted, dehydrated, laid bare for life to trample all over him, he sends a message to the team.

"I had some bad Chinese for dinner, I won't be coming in today".

Tani’s the only one that answers, it’s only an emoji, but it’s something.

After missing work for three days, and forgoing going to the doctor even though he's fairly sure the headache that's killing him is more than dehydration, he cracks. There's no other way of putting it. Something fundamental breaks inside of him and the world suddenly feels very big and menacing. Then everything turns to black and he surrenders into the downwards spiral that comes with it.

By the time he wakes up, he realises nobody even checked on him the past three--no, scratch that, four days. It feels like it should be a miracle he's alive, but it isn't, it really, really isn't.

He calls in sick one more time, only to realise he's not sure what number to dial. All he can hear inside his mind is his mother's voice urging him to call 911. It's his Ma, so he does. 

After mumbling and trying to make sense of what he wants to say, an ambulance team breaks down his door and takes him away. He's so tired he doesn't even have it in him to feel embarrassed. Or to realise he's about to miss his Charlie days.

It's the way the nurse asks. It's the way the doctor looks at him. It's the way the lights tingle and caress his skin. It's in the water on the bedside table. It's in the empty chair beside him. It's in his cold feet. His filthy clothes. It’s in the void in his chest. The pain just over his heart. When the questions come, he answers with honesty.

" _Lady, if I could, I would eat a bullet in a second, but I didn't bring my service gun with me today._ "

And then he laughs, and laughs, and laughs, until they come, and put him down to sleep. It's so funny the way the truth rings in the room after he lets it out. 

But he sleeps, beautiful restorative sleep. And they pump him full of antibiotics, and liquids too. The gracious people of Queen's hospital. True heroes.

Next day when they ask again, he denies it, denies it all, blames it on being sick, on the severe dehydration, the exhaustion. It wasn’t really him talking. He just has a twisted sense of humour. 

They don't believe him one bit, but he answers less truthfully, so they have no choice. 

This time the team does drop by. Tani and Lou anyway. But it hurts to look at them. It hurts to see the purple half-moons under their eyes. Their disappointment. It's not like he didn't call in sick, heck, it's not like any one of them even offered to get him to a doctor sooner than too late. There’s no moral high ground today.

"Brother," Lou says, "there's something wrong with you." 

Danny isn't stupid enough to agree out loud, but he does agree.

He slow-wiggles his eyebrows instead. _Whatcha gonna do, right?_

"Have you talked with your boy?"

 _Why,_ he wants to say, _what’s the point?_

He nods instead. And Lou shakes his head.

Tani, on the other hand, fusses with his covers, with his water, with the clothes they brought him. 

In the end Lou leaves, but Tani comes back and occupies that dammed empty chair. She fusses some more, until she finds her words.

"Danny, are you depressed?"

Danny slow-smiles, because everything is slow today. "No, babe, what gave you that idea, it's just a bug, it will blow away."

Tani grabs his hand and Danny sees Steve inside his mind, getting a faint shot through the heart which reflects in his monitor. _Are we fighting?_ He didn't remember he had said that. 

"Danny, you look like shit, and you haven't been all there since… since Steve left. It's okay to be depressed if you are."

He can't have this. He can't be the one to hurt other people, he knows too well what that feels like.

"Tani, no, relax, I’m not going looney. Look, I'm stressed, I'll give you that, I'm tired, and I'm torn between field duty and the governor and the desk. I'm just swamped."

"Swamped," she repeats, trying to convince herself. It's hard, because Danny isn't selling it very well.

"Yeah, swamped, I'll have you know Steve was not as meticulous with his reports as he was with his everything else in life, that control freak, so there's a lot of catching up to do, okay, I'm going to be fine, I just have a lot on my plate right now."

Tani gives him an appreciative look but relents. 

He is not fine. He is not even in the vicinity of fine. And a good warm Tuesday, he grabs his keys, puts on the one pair of shoes that don’t have laces in them and he checks himself into a psychiatric hospital.

Except he doesn't, because there's no available beds, and " _we'll get back to you_ ,” and “ _in the meantime, here's a brochure, and an appointment for a psychiatrist next Friday_."

What a fraud. He could be dead by next Friday. What a waste of good headspace.

He goes home and sleeps in Charlie's bed, twisted out of shape and out of his mind. He doesn't want to kill himself anymore, though, not today any way. Tomorrow's is a whole other affair.

He comes early into the office on Wednesday, splurges on coffee for everyone, though he only gets tea for himself, his stomach is still a bit iffy. He waits for the team to get there and everybody greets him warmly. Junior asks him to come by in the afternoon, to Steve’s house, and have a bite, his treat, and soon everybody is talking about getting together for dinner, have some well-deserved down time.

“Hey, sir?” Junior starts, having reverted to sirs and formalities a few days after Steve left. Another unintended casualty of leaving like that, too many things still in the air.

“For the love of god, Junior, call me Danny,” he retorts fake-exasperated, and putting on a smile for good measure.

“Sorry, I was going to ask if you’re not hungry?”

“Oh, no, it’s my stomach, it’s still acting up, your food’s good, buddy, don’t worry.”

Junior sends him a luminous smile and the faint pang of pain makes itself known. It’s suddenly like everybody is on the other side of a thin veiled wall, he’s there with them, but he can’t really listen to them anymore.

He turns to Eddie, scratches him around the ears, and pulls his snout close to him, the way Eddie likes it, the warm breath of his snuffles warms his heart, keeps the pain away, makes it easier to listen to the other people laugh. They stay like that for a long time, until Eddie wants to be let out.

Danny follows him out to the lanai and then into the sand. He hasn’t been here since he left Steve’s house to go care for his dead plants and unsurmountable chaos of things back at his own house in Manoa, hard to think that he almost sold it, before Steve… before.

Eddie runs around, looking for the perfect place to pee and once he’s done, he’s eager to go back into the house, be in the middle of the room and socialise with people. Danny isn’t.

He goes back any way and calls it an early night.

Quinn gently teases him about his stomach, and he answers about getting old. Lou gives him credibility by citing how many foods he can no longer have after turning fifty.

They all hug and say their goodbyes, but he’s the only one that leaves.

Sleep does not come.

It’s hard to get up quickly on Thursday. He thinks about calling in sick again, but settles down for riding the desk and putting a dent on the proverbial mountain of paperwork. Plus, he has a feeling today is the day the Governor calls and asks for something next to impossible. Something only a crazy SEAL could pull off. They do have a resident SEAL, but Junior is no longer crazy, his rehabilitation was far less traumatic than Steve’s, far more successful as well. It probably helped that Junior had the freedom to love and be loved again. Unlike Steve. _Ugh._

The Governor doesn’t call, so he’s thankful for small mercies. He hates that he spends so much time thinking about Steve, though. Absolutely despises it.

It’s three in the morning, a time of the night he has never felt comfortable in, call it superstition, call it insomnia, but there’s something about this hour that gives him the creeps.

Imagine his shock then, when half-asleep, only about half-covered by the blanket in the couch, he hears through the haze in his head the front door open and somebody come inside his home.

His heart leaps up to his throat and back, his chest constrains, the ghost pain becomes real pain and his world halts to a stop.

“ _Danno?_ ”

He bolts upright on the couch and wheezes, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

Steve’s duffle bag hits the floor with a dull thud.

“The hospital called, they said it was an emergency, so I came home.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: panic attack

Danny bolts upright on the couch and wheezes, “what the _fuck_ are you doing here?”

Steve’s duffle bag hits the floor with a dull thud.

“The hospital called, they said it was an emergency, so I came home.”

“The what- _what_ now? What time is it? Why? _What?_ ” Danny was not asleep, but he’s still confused as hell, reality slowly trickling into his brain.

Steve closes the door behind him and turns the lights on.

“Oh, motherfucker,” Danny groans, shielding his eyes against the light, “go away!”

Steve shuffles on his feet, not knowing what to expect once he got here, and now that he is, not really knowing what to do next. Ever since he got the call, he had one goal in his mind, _get to Danny_ , everything else turning into an unimportant blur.

“Are you okay?” He asks, being more than able to check for himself, but also wanting to be extra sure.

“Why are you here?” Danny croaks.

Steve sighs, and walks closer to Danny, sitting on the coffee-table in front of him.

“Danno, I told you, the hospital called,” he says, hoping for Danny to fill in the blanks.

“The hospital called and said what?” Danny questions. “I was sick a week ago Steve, you could have called. Fuck, you should have called, like you said you would. I talked to you that same day, you jerk, since when do you hang up on me?”

“I don’t—what? What day?” Steve processes aloud, there’s a pit opening in his stomach as he realises what Danny’s referring to; their last talk-that-wasn’t, remembering how he got pissed off over nothing and cut it short. “Danny, I mean the psychiatric hospital, they called, you didn’t set up a follow up appointment, so they called me.”

Danny’s wide-awake right now, his brain lighting up like a Christmas tree.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh,_ ” Steve echoes, “What the fuck happened?”

Danny feels bare and embarrassed. He had completely spaced out on that little detail; Steve is still his one and only emergency contact. And of course, he’s the kind of person to get a call and immediately pack up and travel half around the world at the mention of trouble, the self-sacrificing bastard. The fact that it feels good to be in the spotlight of Steve’s worry hurts even more.

“Nothing happened. Why are you here? There’s no need to be here, go to your house.”

Deflection is good, deflection always works.

“I can’t go to my house, I don’t have the keys,” Steve mumbles, reeling from the onslaught of dislike, this is not how he pictured it, at all. “It’s the middle of the night… Junior is sleeping.”

It only makes Danny angrier.

“Oh, but you can come to mine?! Great. Beautiful. Only you, you know.” Danny crosses one leg over the other. “Glad to know you are comfortable enough not to value my sleep and privacy, thank you for that. Fantastic.”

Steve presses his lips into a thin line, only now focusing on Danny’s scar. It looks red and angry, puffier than it should have looked by now. He’s aware it got reinfected and things were a bit dodgy for a while, Danny told him himself, but it looks worse than Danny played it out to be.

“My eyes are up here, pumpkin.” Danny snaps his fingers at him. Steve refocuses right back to Danny and the depth of his eyes. It looks like he might be on painkillers too, his pupils little pinpoints, even under the soft light they’re under.

Danny returns the look for a couple of seconds, and Steve can see the moment he makes a decision. He gets off the couch and marches to Steve’s duffle bag, opening the door and very pointedly pushing the bag with his foot.

“Out.”

Steve doesn’t need to be told twice.

As soon as Steve’s out of sight, Danny becomes intensely aware of how fast his heart is beating, and the sweat on his forehead and down his back. He makes an aborted intake of air, followed by another and then another, until it spins out, out of his mind, and out of his control. The darkness grows around him, oppressing and thick, he slides against the door until he hits the floor, bracing his knees against his chest and tries hard to keep the air flowing in and out. His chest hurts, his injury hurts, his head hurts.

His abdomen contracts inwards until his ribs show and then out. Controlled breathing is not happening, but for the love of god, he cannot tell whether he’s hyperventilating or if he’s suffocating. He doesn’t know what to do. His ribs protest the extra effort of breathing. Steve would probably know what to do. The irony of the situation is not lost on him, sadly, he can’t spare a breath of fresh air to laugh.

He keeps sliding down, down, down until he’s cheekbone first against the floor, unable to control whatever comes next. He only hopes whatever it is, it’s over before two in the afternoon, when he’s supposed to pick up Charlie from school.

Several hours later, and after the longest shower of his life, which will surely take a good chunk out of his paycheck next month, he feels human again. Or human enough. Braving breakfast after throwing up before the shower, not so much. The fact he knows Steve’s parked outside his house is not helping either. The annoying fucker.

He puts on his most comfortable shorts and throws a hoodie on top for good measure, he’s aware it’s hot outside, but ever since he got shot, he gets cold at the oddest moments of the day. The bullet most likely shattered his inner thermostat, or something.

Thirty minutes before his appointment, he goes out and stands next to Steve’s door. Steve rolls the window down and says nothing. So, Danny says nothing in return as he walks to his own rental car and climbs in, he doesn’t even spare a glance back, Steve either follows him or he doesn’t, and 75% of him doesn’t want him to.

He follows him, of course he does.

Danny still blows him off at the entrance of the building and then again, fifty minutes later, when he goes out, medical papers still in his hand.

Steve is leaning against the wall, lips pressed into a tense line, arms firmly crossed over his chest.

As Danny passes next to him, Steve unfolds and follows him all the way to the car and leans into the driver’s door, crossing his arms over his chest again.

Danny clicks his tongue. “Are we doing this here?”

“Did you go to the doctor?” Steve eyes the papers in Danny’s hand.

“Oh, so we’re playing twenty questions.” Danny raises one finger. “I have one, where’s your truck?”

Steve uncrosses his arms. “Because you didn’t go to the one I made for you.”

Danny points to Steve’s hands, “Don’t even think about it.” Danny’s aware Steve’s readying himself to take Danny’s papers from him. “Does Junior even know you’re here?”

Steve deflates and leans against the car again, pocketing his hands. “Are you going to be okay?”

There’s a certain vulnerability to Steve, something Danny hasn’t seen before, or, maybe not in a long time. He hates it.

“Any of the team know you’re here?”

“Fine, be like that.” Steve retorts. “No, no one knows, because I had to ditch all I was doing to come here, and I didn’t really have time to talk with anyone about it.”

“I didn’t ask you to come, Steven,” Danny shakes his head, “and I certainly didn’t ask you to keep it a secret.”

Steve takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. “It’s true, you didn’t, but I’m here now. Would you please tell me how it went with the doctor?”

Danny bites his lower lip and goes around the car, unlocks the passenger side and before getting in, he says, “I can’t, I have to get to PT, and then to the pharmacy.”

Whatever Steve says is lost to him as he closes and locks the door, sliding into the driver’s seat.

Steve motions for him to roll the window down. Danny starts the car and cracks down the window.

“I said,” Steve starts, frazzled, “I thought you were done with PT.”

“I was,” Danny states simply, “but then I wasn’t. I believe the term is getting old and being shot more than once in your chest does not really help.”

Danny looks Steve in the eye, defiant. Steve resists the urge to pick up the challenge.

“I have to go now. Move.”

Steve moves, Danny puts the car in gear and peels away from the parking lot. Before Steve becomes a memory on the side mirror, his heart races and there’s stabs of pain in his shoulder. He stops the car a few blocks down, takes deep breaths until he calms down, and then starts again, paying no mind to his racing thoughts and putting all his focus on the road.

A few thoughts escape his control. Like the after image of how Steve looked in frayed jeans and trainers. How long his hair is. The wispy curl at the back of his nape. The lack of a tan. The way he agreed with Danny, quick and certain. The faint look of hurt in his eyes.

His heart starts racing again, but he's close to the rehabilitation centre so he muddles through traffic and his thoughts until he's standing in front of his physical therapist with a fake smile plastered on his face.

“Oh, man, I know you called in sick last week, but I thought you got better?”

That is not what Danny calls a warm welcome. He thought his physiotherapist liked him.

“That’s not a nice thing to say,” he frowns.

“Aw, sorry, Danny,” Lani gives him a sweet smile, “didn’t mean it like that.”

And off they go into their weird mixture of PT and almost flirting. He likes Lani, makes him feel younger with all the smiles and constant encouragement. It also helps that she doesn’t know much about his life, and after three months seeing each other twice a week at the very least, she gets that he likes it that way. He gets to pretend with her, like he’s a normal human being, and whenever he’s feeling down, he can pretend his ribs hurt, or his shoulder, or maybe his old knee injury. And she makes an effort, she tries her best to make him healthy again.

_God, he’s pathetic._

“Hey, I just realised, you were supposed to bring your new PT orders today, did you?”

Danny’s stretching his arm against a wall, counting in his head to twenty to be done with the last stretch. But he pats his pocket, to show her he’s got them.

“You’re done on that side, Danny, you can switch. But give me the papers first, I’ll go drop them off at reception.” Danny, diligent as usual, hands her the orders. “Hey, these are from today. Didn’t know you had a check-up today before this. You’ve been busy, huh?”

Danny smiles. “You’ve got no idea.”

On his way to pick up Charlie, he has enough driving distance to feel bad about how he handled Steve in the middle of the night. And again, this morning. The guy is just trying to make sure he’s alright. And he did fly all this way, back to him essentially.

He also takes the few minutes between arriving at the school and seeing his kid’s blond head running his way, to call his old shrink and make an appointment for next week. There’s a pang of pain in his chest at the thought of actually carrying through and leaving his children fatherless, not because some perp offed a cop out in his lucky day—that risk comes with the job, and he’s almost done with the job, anyway—but doing it on his own accord? It makes him sick to his stomach. But he knows he will feel like it again, he knows in a week or two, when the euphoria of being alive fades away, he’ll be there, resisting the urge to go fish his service gun out of the safe and….

Here comes Charlie. Gloomy Charlie.

“Hey, baby, how’s it going?”

Charlie shrugs and slumps in the seat. Danny’s chest hurts again.

Back at his house, Danny’s afternoon is hectic, barely staving off the impending meltdown of doom he and Charlie are both about to have. His kid, who he adores and loves to the moon and back, has been impossible since Danny got shot, acting out at school and at home, having endless little fights with his friends, and less than a week ago, he got a detention slip for badmouthing a teacher. It hurts to see him so uncomfortable in his own skin.

There’s a knock on the door, and Danny knows he needs to drop whatever he’s doing and run to answer it before Charlie does, the kid’s got zero sense of preservation, talks with strangers at the drop of a hat, and has veritable Houdini skills to open locks. Something out of this world.

He reaches the door, and opens it, regretting it as soon as he does.

Steve’s there, fuming to the nth degree.

“You didn’t go to a shrink today,” Steve states, and Danny knows that whatever comes next is not fit for little kids’ ears. His chest hurts and his vision greys around the edges.

“Keep your voice down, okay, shut up. Charlie’s here.”

There’s a sickening pause, where Danny can see Steve’s eyes focus beyond Danny’s head and then he says, “Charlie boy?”

Danny turns around just in time to see how Charlie’s lower lip trembles and his face contort in pain. He extends his arms towards Steve and his hands curl until they become fists. He closes his eyes and then babble-sobs something impossible to decipher.

Danny swoops him off the floor and sends a distressed look Steve’s way.

“Hey, buddy, Uncle Steve’s here.”

Charlie loses it. There are ear-piercing shrieks and then he holds on for dear life to Danny, arms and legs.

Steve’s rooted to the ground. He’s seen Charlie cry for a thousand reasons before, ranging from tantrums to Danno-time is over too soon, but never like this. He’s red faced, tear stained and vibrating with anguish.

Danny soothes him quietly with sweet words under his breath. He carries him one-armed all the way to the couch, where they sit, and Charlie buries his face in the crook of Danny’s neck and sobs and sobs, desolated. Danny rubs his back and sways from side to side, supporting his neck and tangling his fingers in his hair.

“Shhh, baby boy, you’re okay, you’re just overwhelmed, shh, it’s okay.” Charlie’s shrieks give way to long moans, that may or may not be him trying to say something. “Let’s calm down, okay? Just take a breath, remember we’ve practised that? Hmm? Like smelling really good cannoli. The kind your grammy makes? Mmm? C’mon, kiddo, I know it hurts, but we gotta calm down.”

Danny’s voice turns decidedly wet by the end of that sentence and two fat tears roll down his face and land on the back of Charlie’s t-shirt.

It’s more than what Steve can handle, but he forces himself to put one foot in front of the other until he’s sitting on the other side of Charlie and caressing that precious boy’s head as well.

He clears his throat before he speaks in the most comforting tone he can muster, “hey, buddy, I’m right here, okay?”

It has the opposite effect; Charlie’s sobs go from painful to whole-body racking; he has never felt so guilty in his life before, and he’s not even sure what he’s supposed to be feeling guilty about. His stomach turns to lead and his lower lip trembles against his will. Danny sniffles, unaware of the turmoil unfolding inside Steve’s chest.

They go on like that for a long while, until Charlie’s cries begin to subside and the fist around Steve’s heart stops squeezing so tightly.

“Okay, baby, time to go wash our faces,” Danny announces, doing that voice where he’s pretending to be in control in order to actually gain control. Charlie shudders in his arms and protests, kicking him softly with his feet, which Danny promptly secure as he gets up and walks into the bathroom.

Steve follows them a couple of steps behind. Unable to look away.

Danny sits on the edge of the bathtub and opens the shower tap, wetting his hand and running it gently through Charlie’s hair. “How about that, huh? Let’s refresh ourselves, all the crying gets uncomfortable, right?”

Charlie nods.

“Want me to wash your face?”

Charlie nods again. So, Danny runs his hand under the water and splashes Charlie a bit. It’s like all the tension in the room bleeds away.

“Danno!” He protests, followed by a hiccup.

“No? this is not what you wanted? You didn’t want water on your face?”

Crisis semi averted, Charlie is up to almost nothing the rest of the afternoon, sticking close to Danny and insisting he’s a big boy and wanting to do everything alone, but protesting when he’s left alone to do it. Homework is brought up and promptly discarded, Danny chastises him for trying to tear up one the pages out of the book. He doesn’t want to watch cartoons and he doesn’t want to play with Steve at racing cars, he hovers near Danny and ignores Steve to the point where he almost offers to leave them alone, so they can truly enjoy their time, but the look Danny gives him, sends shudders down his spine. He has no idea what’s going on, but he must brave it and persevere, no other way through.

In the meantime, Danny keeps a running commentary of the chores and asking Charlie question after question about school and a quiz he had, and friends. In return, Charlie proposes restaurants that deliver for dinner. Chinese. Italian. Thai. Kamekona's.

"Kame doesn't deliver, buddy," Danny comments, as he folds laundry.

Charlie gets a thunderous look and does the signature William's lower lip bite. Without missing a beat, Danny warns him about faces stuck in that position. Charlie goes back to his campaign with renewed vigour and Danny relents after some token protests, letting him come up with the perfect pizza.

Charlie is content with his win, a subtle smile across his lips, that is until Steve offers to take him on a quick trip to pick up their food and Charlie frowns, wanting to cook spaghetti instead. The kid is quite effectively shutting him out.

The kid has been all over the place in the few hours they’ve been home, and Steve could swear there’s a couple of times when Charlie’s about to start crying again, but then Danny has a quiet talk with him in the kitchen, away from Steve. Charlie sighs, refuses to be held, and goes back to his room.

“What did you say to him?” Steve wonders aloud. Dumbfounded by Charlie’s behaviour today.

“That he needs to take a break and come back out when he’s ready.”

Steve gulps down. “That sounds harsh.”

“It’s what we have agreed in the past. If it makes you feel any better, he can ask me to do the same thing.”

“But he’s having a hard time, shouldn’t we…” he trails off.

Danny thinks about retorting _there’s no we, Steven_ , but refrains, he’s hurting, not cruel. Steve seems to understand the underlying sentiment anyway.

“Look, I’m not a bad father, okay, he’s overwhelmed, and we’ve found out that after it gets to a certain point, it’s better to let him be, otherwise we feed into his loop, alright?” Danny takes his wallet from the top of the fridge and takes a couple of bills out. “Here, go get us dinner, the pizza Charlie wanted from the place and some dessert, whatever you want.”

Steve can’t help noticing Danny massages the front of his shoulder after getting his wallet, just like he can’t help to notice how much weight he’s lost since he last saw him a few months ago.

He swallows thickly and takes the money, picking Danny’s car keys from the bowl on his way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are <3


	3. Chapter 3

Steve takes the long scenic route back, adding a good twenty extra minutes to his trip, hoping it will be enough to dissipate the bad taste the whole thing has left in his mouth, and if not, that it will be enough father-son time to do the same for his… for Charlie and Danny.

Just as he’s about to knock on the door, it opens, and he’s greeted by a toothy smile he hadn’t had the opportunity to see in a long while.

“Danno!! Dinner’s here!”

The lack of interest in his persona is not lost on him.

“Sure is, buddy, half peperoni, half mushroom, asparagus and corn, just the way you like it.”

Charlie, takes careful possession of the pizza box and stands on tip toes to put it on top of the dinner table, immediately hopping and kneeling on top of a chair after.

“Go wash your hands,” Danny calls from the kitchen not even looking at what Charlie was about to do, Charlie groans in a way it reminds Steve of Danny when he thinks no one’s looking, and the kid shoots off to the bathroom.

“Super SEALs have to wash their hands too,” Danny says to him as he walks in from the kitchen, salad bowl in hand, kitchen towel over his shoulder.

He thinks about going into the bathroom, squeeze himself next to Charlie, but desists before the thought fully forms in his head. He walks up to Danny, intending to take the kitchen towel from his shoulder but is surprised by Danny stepping back and giving a micro-second of a startled look, before taking the towel himself and slapping it against Steve’s chest.

“Bring back a beer if you want,” Danny says, pretending nothing happened. Steve does the same.

Back at the table, Danny sets the salad, and gets busy slicing the pizza, just in time to help Charlie sit down in his seat, instead of kneeling in it.

“You’re about the only kid I know who enjoys asparagus, did you know that?” Danny comments at the same time Steve comes out from the kitchen.

“I know, I like being weird.” Charlie smiles as his hand sneaks away an asparagus, ready to munch on it.

“I liked asparagus as kid too,” Steve pipes in, putting some green leaves on his plate, hoping to lead by example.

Charlie seems genuinely surprised. “What else did you like?”

“Food?” Steve asks to make sure, Charlie nods. “Well, everything really, I wasn’t picky.” He shrugs for good measure.

“Oh, okay.” Charlie looks down and concentrates on his slice, biting on way more than he can chew.

Danny clears his throat and offers Charlie a napkin, nudging his glass of soda closer, he’s going all out this night with restricted foods. Anything to avoid another meltdown, he just desperately wants Charlie to feel better.

He could take pity on Steve and his lack of every single human skill ever, but he’s also tired of this, of picking up the slack. He’s on energy saving mode, and there’s only so much he can deal with before he collapses onto himself again. 

Charlie starts to nod off a few minutes after finishing his third slice.

“Okay, kiddo, time for bed.”

It’s a testament to how utterly wiped out he is after the day they’ve had; Charlie doesn’t even protest, barely mumbles an “okay” and marches himself to the bedroom, Danny gently steers him towards the bathroom, hoping for a quick teeth brush and then off to bed.

Steve on his part, who has barely uttered a peep the whole afternoon, starts clearing the table. His meal is already turning bitter in his stomach, everything is out of whack, nothing is where it belongs. Danny’s house is not the same he remembers from months before, before Doris died, before Danny invited himself into Steve’s home, before Danny’s home was wrecked by a burst pipe. There’s new furniture, but it’s sparse and minimalistic, doesn’t really follow Danny’s line of decorating from before, and there’s a lot less of it too. Photographs haven’t been brought out, or worse, they no longer exist, maybe permanently damaged by water and sewage. That would be awful.

He has a pang of guilt in his chest, because, well, he doesn’t know, he never took enough interest in Danny’s pipe problem and its ramifications.

God, he’s such a moron.

In the meantime, Charlie livens up a bit as he does his night routine, to the point he’s bright eyed and on the brink of something by the time, Danny tucks him into bed.

Danny can feel the tension build up in his little body as he helps him put on the top part of his pyjamas. As he tucks him in Charlie finally opens up.

“Is Uncle Steve mad?” He whispers, eyes fixed on Danny’s face, looking for clues.

Danny hesitates, because, yes, he is, but not at Charlie, and also, yes, he’s always been a bit touched in the head. “Yes, he’s upset, but he’s not upset at you. I know for a fact you are his favourite boy in the whole world.”

“Mmm.” Charlie bites his lip. “Is he leaving again?”

Danny sighs, he can’t lie to Charlie, but he really wishes he could. “I don’t know, baby.”

Charlie pouts, his eyes turning round and wet, “is he leaving because of me?”

Danny reels from the question, because, where the heck did that come from?!

“What? No, not at all, why do you say that?”

“Because I was really mean to him today,” Charlie sobs, jumping to hang from Danny’s neck. “And I didn’t want to—I don’t know why—but I don’t want him to go.”

“Look, Charlie, c’mon, look me in the eye.” Danny gently extricates himself from Charlie’s embrace. “Listen to me kid, are you listening?” Charlie nods. “Yeah? Ears really open? Listening with your eyes as well?” Charlie nods again, drying his eyes. “Good. Here’s the thing: Steve did not leave because of you. Steve is not mad at you, at all. You hear me?” Danny can’t help to shake his son’s arms a bit at that, unconsciously trying to drill that inside his head, vanish the self-blame the kids’ been carrying around. The school counsellor had mentioned how at this age kids are very self-centred and truly believe things happen as a direct consequence of their behaviour, Charlie had first blamed himself for Danny getting hurt, and now he seemed to be doing the same with Steve.

“You’re a great kid, you’re nice, and well-mannered, and caring. People are lucky to know you. Okay? You believe me?” Charlie dries his face again, using the hem of his t-shirt, Danny on his part, uses his own shirt to clean his son’s face and wipe his nose. Charlie sniffles for good measure.

“Yeah? You do? Then why are you still crying? What’s happening in that head of yours?”

“Why he leave before?” Charlie mumbles, doing cow eyes and a little pout.

“Why?” Danny repeats, because _how_ , how does he explain this over and over again and still doesn’t make sense. “You know why, I told you before, remember? Steve needed to travel the world and see different beaches and maybe a couple of mountains, to remind him how much he loves his home here in the island. Just like when you and I go to visit your Pop and Grammy, we miss the house, and our beds, and your mummy. Yeah? And then when we come back, we’re really grateful to have it all, aren’t we?”

“Was he with his Pop and Grammy too?”

“Was he…? No, baby, Uncle Steve’s Pop and Grammy died a long time ago.”

“Then why did he go?”

“Oh, you’re killing me kid.” Danny groans, unable to catch himself, immediately regretting showing his frustration. “Look, I… I can’t answer for him, but this is what I think, okay?” Charlie’s eyes are still round, but not as wet as before, some of what Danny’s been saying seems to be sinking in. 

“Uncle Steve was sad,” he states simply, “and a lot of the things that made him sad happened in this island, so he wanted to get away from what made him sad, and then that way, things that made him happy would make him come back.”

Charlie pouts again, “I don’t understand.”

Danny groans and buries his face in the covers next to his son. Charlie chuckles softly. He happens to enjoy seeing Danny at the end of his rope, much to Danny’s chagrin.

“Never mind,” Danny mumbles against the covers, changing tactics, “he’s back now, so how about tomorrow, we put on our best behaviour and try to spend some time together, hmm? Uncle Steve loves you very much and now that he’s back, let’s try to enjoy our time with him as much as possible, yeah?”

Charlie nods, a big yawn interrupting him.

“Okay, today has been a long day, so time close your eyes and dream nice things.” Danny tucks the covers up to Charlie’s chin. “I love you, kiddo, no matter what, all day and all night, with all my heart.”

“I love you too, Danno.”

“Music to my ears,” he whispers back as he smiles down on his kid, “c’mon, scoot down. You comfy? Yeah?”

Charlie yawns again and his eyes droop until they close. His kid is fast asleep, finally.

Danny takes a second to ask god or whatever deity is looking over them that night, to please take care of his boy. And then he needs a few more seconds to collect his thoughts and feelings, the latter more bruised than scattered. He sniffles one more time, reining it all in, and gets up from the bed, turning around to exit, only to face Steve, who’s standing to the side of Charlie’s door, swallowing convulsively, eyes red rimmed and a hunched stance that screams of hurt and pain.

“Fffffudge.”

“I came to say goodnight and I…”

“Yeah, yeah, great, just not here.”

Danny nudges Steve out of Charlie’s room and leaves the door ajar, the lights on outside; Charlie’s been having nightmares again, they thought they had outgrown this phase, but well, Danny got hurt and Charlie regressed.

Danny passes Steve in the hallway and leads him into the kitchen, where he can keep an ear on Charlie and have a really uncomfortable talk with Steve at the same time.

No sooner than he crosses the threshold, Steve blurts out, “What’s wrong with Charlie, man?”

And even though he knows he didn’t mean it like that, Danny’s blood boils.

“ _Excuse me?!_ What’s wrong with Charlie?! What’s wrong with _you_?! What do you think happened? I was shot, you gigantic dope!” Danny strains not to shout, and Steve at least, looks contrite, like he realised what a huge mistake he made as soon as he said it. Danny’s stomach churns, but now he’s started, he can’t stop.

“Charlie’s older now, so he’s beginning to understand what it means to die. He understands that some things you don’t come back from.” He absentmindedly touches his scar. “What do you think is wrong with my child? Huh? Nothing, that’s what’s wrong with him. He’s going through fucking trauma, Steven, but there’s nothing wrong with him, he’s just a little boy, who has gone through so much in life I dread to fill out forms for him at school, where it says previous surgeries I shudder to think what to put in them.

“ _What’s wrong with him?”_ He repeats mostly to himself. “Unbelievable. He’s just a little kid. He keeps asking about you. He has given me so many drawings for you that I don't know what to do with them anymore.” Danny opens a cabinet way above his head and takes a stack of print paper from it, clearly hidden out of Charlie’s reach; he shoves them all into Steve’s hands, who fumbles with them and drops a few. What appears to be a day in the beach lands on his feet. Steve swallows thickly.

“He's not stupid, you know. He knows you're gone and not really talking. He misses you. He doesn’t understand what happened. So now I have to watch my son cry himself to sleep because of you,” he croaks, “thank you, Steven, seriously, thank you for that. I hope traveling is working for you, so all this pain is worth it."

Steve blanches. "That's... That not fair."

"It sure as fuck isn't, _and yet…_ here we are."

Danny turns around and starts scraping the dishes, tired of the conversation, tired of living, tired of Steve not getting it. Steve on his part, kneels and picks up a day on the beach and a dinosaur from the floor, sits down at the kitchen table and reorders Charlie’s drawings in his hands and then promptly covers his face, almost crumpling one of them.

How did all get so fucked up?

Danny squeezes the sponge in his hand, letting soap suds jump to his t-shirt and drip back into the sink. He’s been washing dishes on autopilot the past—he doesn’t know how long, judging by the dent he’s made, maybe four minutes, maybe less.

He takes a cleansing breath and sighs it out, turning around to face Steve, who has remained a stoic wall of silence at the table, head bowed over Charlie’s drawings.

“It wasn’t fair.” Danny starts, staring at the back of Steve’s head. “And it’s not your fault I got shot. And it is not your fault Charlie cries himself to sleep. Or that he’s about one serious incident from getting kicked out of school.”

Steve sniffles and nods.

“But I was a part of it,” he says, hoarse, not turning to look at Danny, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you were. You certainly were.” Danny chews on his bottom lip, not sure what to say next. It comes as a surprise to his own ears when he blurts, “Can I ask why? Are we still friends enough that I get to ask?”

Steve turns around so fast the chair groans under the stress.

“Why would you say that, of course we’re friends.”

The denial pierces Danny’s heart, at a corner, painful enough to feel it, but not life-shattering. He hates that he needs to disabuse Steve of that notion, though.

“Babe, we haven’t had a real conversation since you left. It’s been what, almost four months now? I’m sorry it bothers you, but I seriously don’t know if I have—I don’t know, _permission_ to say anything or if I say the wrong thing, then you’ll hang up on me again.”

The blow lands centre mass. Danny can see it go through Steve’s chest and expand all the way into his eyes and hands. Fists tight, eyes stressed and wet.

Steve nods thoughtfully. “That one I deserved.”

“Yeah, you do,” Danny echoes and Steve shrinks in his chair.

Silence stretches between them, emphasising exactly how far apart they are. And Danny could press on, but he’s tired of being the one to reach out and knock on Steve’s shell, he’s had ten years to come out of it, if he hasn’t by now, it’s not for lack of Danny trying.

He’s considering returning to the dishes when Steve seems to reach a decision with himself, searching for Danny’s eyes.

“Look,” Steve says, “I can’t begin to say how sorry I am for how it turned out. I felt like shit for hanging up on you, man, but truth is, I felt even worse when I didn’t, and it’s not an excuse, I know. I—I just—

He stops, takes a deep breath, releases it slowly and closes his eyes.

“I was embarrassed,” he mutters, eyes closed, hands clasped together and slightly shaking. “I’m still embarrassed and so fucking angry all the time I don’t know what to do with all this anger. So I kept you in the dark because I have nothing to show for. Travel didn’t fix shit,” he opens his eyes, “and two months in I was in the same hole I started in, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t stop thinking, I just couldn’t deal. And everyone was expecting me to—no— _I was expecting_ to get better, and when I didn’t, I—I…” he falters, unable to say it out loud.

But Danny knows what comes next.

“You did what you always do, pushed everyone away and pretended you’re a Super SEAL extraordinaire who has to do everything on his own otherwise it doesn’t count. This is not news, babe, just so you know.”

“I know!” Steve sobs out exasperatedly. “I’m an idiot.”

Danny’s lips quirk up, “yes, you are.”

Steve hangs his head between his shoulders, relieved to be called an idiot in that tone. What they have is broken, but now he knows it can be fixed.

“Since we are not yelling at each other,” Danny points out, “like I originally thought we would, wanna have a drink?”

Steve chuckles wetly. “Should you be drinking?”

“Relax, I’ll have some tea, my stomach is,” he does a so-so gesture with his hand. “You want a beer?”

“No, a tea sounds good too.”

“Geez, we’re getting old.”

“Yes, we are.”

Tea mug in hand, Steve settles on the couch, waiting for Danny to comeback from his quick check on Charlie, he stares at the steam rising from Danny’s mug. It says “ _#1 Danno_ ”, he got it for Danny at Gracie’s request, a lifetime ago.

“Charlie’s asleep. Hopefully until tomorrow.” Danny crosses his fingers as he settles back on the couch. He pauses slightly as he leans back, needing to take the mug with both hands.

Steve sips on his tea as he watches Danny’s movements, they are not as smooth as they used to be, noticing most of the weight loss is muscle mass, his shoulders not as broad, his face skinnier than before. He places his mug on the coffee table, not yet the perfect temperature.

“What?” Danny says, blowing on his own mug, Danny has always liked his beverages a lot hotter than Steve. “Steve, what? You’re staring.”

Steve can’t do anything but stare. Feeling gratitude and relief at seeing Danny by his side, he had yet to process the frantic trek across half the freaking planet to get here.

“Danno?”

“Babe?”

Steve’s not sure what he was about to ask.

“Nothing, never mind.”

Danny sips on his tea one more time, before leaning forward and placing his mug next to Steve’s at the coffee table.

“What? Mmm? _Wha--?_ ” He shakes his head slightly, it’s such a Danno thing to do.

“Nothing, it’s just… I missed you, I don’t think I ever said it, all the time I was away, but I missed you every day.”

Danny’s chest pain comes back with a vengeance. His lungs feel too full and too empty at the same time. His mind turns foggy and slow. Reality flickers around him. Steve takes his hand, and then his arm, a steady presence beside him, it’s easy to get lost in those blue eyes and feel safe.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Danny gasps, still teetering at the edge. “Yeah, I was—I got dizzy is all.”

Steve frowns.

“You’re lying,” Steve says, at the same time Danny says, “Shut up.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up, you’re lying.”

“It’s a half-truth, I was dizzy for a moment.”

“Danny,” Steve pleads.

“What? You keep saying my name, what?”

Steve sighs. “Are we going to talk about it? Today? Tomorrow? Next week?”

“Are you staying that long?” Danny fires back.

Steve gives him a look and tries again.

“D, look, I understand that things haven’t been easy, okay? That Charlie’s really affected by what happened to you—

“I was shot, Steve, you can say it.”

Steve presses his lips. “Can you explain it to me? Danny? Please?”

“Explain it to you.” Danny massages his left shoulder. “Because what, getting shot and having my kid suffer almost every day for it is not enough? That can’t be the reason I’m all stressed and…” Danny gestures around him. “Shit?”

“Danny, please. I’m asking you. What’s going on? What happened?”

Danny bites the tip of his tongue and relents to the pleading tone of Steve’s voice.

“Do you remember when that parking lot caved in on us? Back in—umm… 2014?”

“I have a vague memory of it, yeah.”

“Remember how I told you that, first thing that comes to mind whenever I get something good in life, it’s how it ends?” Steve nods solemnly. “And remember how you told me to give good things a chance? Instead of pushing them away, thinking when they would end; to bring them closer?”

Steve almost smiles at the memory, he gets that Danny’s building to something less than good with this speech, but he happens to remember that memory fondly, getting Danny back to safety, telling him how much he loves him, Danny saying it back.

“I believe the thing was named Melissa, but yeah, I do.”

“Of course, she had a name, you _schmuk_ , I meant, the general idea of your advice.” Danny shakes his head, trying hard not to rile himself up.

Steve puts his hands up, conceding the point, also not wanting Danny to veer off into rant territory.

Danny nods, mostly to himself. “Well, I did; I took your advice. I went to get you to Afghanistan. Went to couple’s therapy with you. I got you into business with me, I gave you half my liver.” Danny pauses to clear his throat, “I moved into your house when you needed me. I gave you access to my kids and let you co-parent with me.” He shrugs and then croaks, “I gave myself all in with you.”

Tears clump his eyelashes together, and a few roll down his cheeks when he blinks.

Steve’s stomach clenches. “And I left.”

Danny bites his lower lip and nods, unable to utter another word.

Steve closes his eyes and exhales, his own breath catching in his throat. The need to hug Danny and never letting go is unbearable, he clamps both his hand on Danny’s arm instead and looks for Danny’s eyes.

“But Danny you have to know I wasn’t leaving you.”

Danny nods, his chin trembling.

“Then why?” Steve dries his eyes with the back of his hand. “Why are you…?”

Danny swallows convulsively. “Because you left when you knew I couldn’t follow. You’re unreachable, Steve. No matter how much I call, or text, you’re not there. And I needed you there, babe. I needed my friend.”

Like a kick to the gut. Because in that moment, Steve knows it to be the truth, Danny’s truth, and that whilst he was gone, looking for himself, and finding nothing pretty, Danny was left back here, holding the fort, as he too often does.

“Oh, Danno, fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I—I—I don’t have the words.”

Danny chuckles wetly, shaking his head.

“That’s part of the problem, isn’t it?” He chews on his bottom lip before continuing. “You never have the words, I have all the words and Steve, I get so tired sometimes, and you’re so out of my reach there’s nothing else for me to say or do. You do this thing where no one can empathise with you, _nobody_ knows what you’ve gone through, _nobody_ knows about the service, or your family, or your… pain. But, _babe_ , I’ve been with you for a lot of it, and I get that I will never understand it at the skin level, but Steve— _goddammit, Steve!_ I want to love you, and I want to care for you, and sometimes you make it. So. Damn. _Hard_.”

Danny is almost shouting by the end of it, but it’s liberating, being able to say it, being able to say it to Steve’s face, nonetheless. A ton of bricks lift from his shoulders, and the ever-present pain on his chest and shoulder recedes back a smidge.

His euphoria is short-lived, though, as he watches Steve visibly swallow back his tears, blinking fast and lost, crushing Danny’s arm under his hands, much like his own kid had a few hours ago, and then, a sob comes, followed by another and another.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Steve mumbles, almost to Danny chest, and Danny hugs him all the way into his arms, because that’s his best friend crying his heart out and there’s no way in hell he’s going to leave him hanging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone in the comments said there was a lot of crow to chew still, and they were right. So I'm adding a fourth chapter to bring more comfort to this story, because, frankly, I need it. 
> 
> Drop me a key-smash or a line (if you want).
> 
> It's okay, we'll get through this :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: suicidal thoughts being superficially discussed
> 
> A shout out to my intrepid first reader, [Ilmare Ilse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilmare_Ilse/pseuds/Ilmare_Ilse), who helped me ~~beat this chapter into submission~~ polish my plot-lines and POVs.

_“Danno?”_

_“Dad…?”_

Charlie? Is that Charlie? What?

_Charlie!_

Danny opens his eyes abruptly, taking a moment to focus. Right in front of him is his son, his baby boy, clutching his stuffed dinosaur for dear life, biting on one of its soft spikes.

“Hey, baby,” he mumbles, far more asleep than awake, “you had a bad dream?”

Charlie nods, his sight getting lost behind Danny and then back to his father’s face.

After everything was said and done, Danny had cajoled Steve to just stay the night, neither of them really wanting to be alone. Steve was no stranger to Danny’s bed, though this was one of the few times (counted in one hand) that Steve had stayed only to sleep.

Danny takes a deep breath, trying to wake himself further. Charlie needs him.

Except, Charlie is already climbing into bed, making the decision since Danny was not about to pick him up and tuck him in, not fast enough anyway.

“Okay, c’mere. I’ll keep you safe.”

Danny makes space for Charlie to curl into him and then tucks the covers up to Charlie’s neck, petting his son’s head until he falls asleep again. For a moment Danny thinks he’ll stay awake the rest of the night, as it usually happens when he wakes in the wee hours of the morning, but then Steve stirs lightly and tucks his forehead against Danny’s back and it sends a wave of soft, warm, fuzziness across his body, just enough to tug him back into sleep.

Steve wakes to little feet pushing on his kidneys and not enough covers to shield him from the morning chill. For a moment or two he’s confused and disoriented, but then he remembers whose bed he went to sleep in, and that Danny mentioned Charlie had been having nightmares. This is a first still, and for a moment he feels like an intruder, but he also knows Danny would have kicked him out of bed if he thought it was needed.

He stifles a yawn and extricates himself from Charlie’s pointy heels, making some space for himself, turning around to check on Charlie and Danny. The kid turns away from him and burrows into Danny’s side. Danny, without even opening his eyes, puts a hand protectively over Charlie’s head, as he curls to his side, supporting his head on his folded arm.

There’s a pang of nostalgia in Steve’s chest, which he’d rather keep buried and unacknowledged. With a sigh he slides off the bed and pads barefooted to the hall bathroom and takes it from there. It’s only 8 am, but he’s sure Charlie will come bounding looking for food sooner rather than later, he’s an early bird, unlike his father, so Steve plans to make breakfast and hopefully give Danny a few more minutes to rest. 

It does not come to fruition, though, since Danny is the one dragging his feet into the kitchen fifteen minutes later, probably enticed by the smell of food and coffee, and sporting a massive bedhead.

“You’re up early,” Steve comments, unsure of where they stand and still drained from the night before.

“Mmm,” Danny says, followed by _gimme_ hands.

Steve happily passes his own mug of coffee.

“Oh yes,” Danny moans in bliss, “no butter, thank you.”

Steve smiles, this feels oddly familiar in a gut-churning way. He concentrates on making eggs instead. Two different kinds, one for Danny, who likes them slightly burnt, and one for him and Charlie, who both like it _not_ -burnt, though Charlie always complains if they’re too “wet” as he calls them, so he’ll cook them by Charlie’s standards.

“Danny,” Steve starts, placing his mug down on the table, next to the remains of his breakfast. “I know this is probably the last thing you want to talk about right now, but I’m worried about you, man. And I… I… feel this is important.”

Danny lowers his own mug, incensed.

“You _feel_ this is important? What do you think _I feel?_ Hmm?”

Steve bites his upper lip, much in the same way Danny would if the roles were—well, _when_ the roles have been reversed.

“I want to know what I can do to help. You need me to drive you places, to talk, cook, whatever you want, I’ll do it. I just… I want you to be happy, buddy.”

Danny cards his fingers through his hair, tugging a little at the back. “I hear ya, I do, but does that mean you’re staying? Done with the travelling? How else are you going to do all those things?”

A few days ago he would have dreaded this question, but he’s ready to answer it now. 

“Yeah, I’m done.”

“Are you sure? Because, beyond me feeling… I don’ have a better word than abandoned—sorry,” Danny spares an apologetic glance Steve’s way, “I don’t want to get in the way of your self-discovery journey, or whatever. I’ll get over it, for you.”

It warms Steve’s heart in a way no mountain, ocean or hole in the wall little café did during his trip. He takes Danny’s hand in his, never surer than what he’s about to say.

“Danny, you’re my home. I’m not leaving again. And I can’t express how sorry I am I left in the way I did. For the record, I still think I needed to, but I’m sorry that in doing so I hurt you. I’m not leaving again, I’m exactly where I need to be.”

Danny blinks rapidly, swallowing convulsively.

After composing himself Danny rasps, “okay.”

“Okay?” Steve looks for reassurance in Danny’s eyes, a promise of sorts.

“Yeah,” Danny nods, “I believe you. I’m still… I don’t know what I am, I’m not angry, but I believe you.”

“Thank you.” Steve smiles nodding back. “On that note, and thinking I might drive you somewhere—

“Oh god, subtle you’re not, babe,” Danny protests, rolling his eyes for good measure.

“How about a nice doctor,” Steve continues, undeterred, “the mental health kind.”

Danny groans into his hands, but he owes it to Steve, a straight answer. He sits up and considers what to say, how to go about it, what not to say, it’s not like Steve doesn’t know his medical history, he’s read his personnel file, his college transcripts, he probably even read his master thesis, and only he knows how many other files he’s pilfered along the way. He’s still ashamed to say it out loud, though.

He takes a fortifying breath and clasps his hands together, not knowing what else to do with them, “Don’t worry,” he croaks, betrayed by his voice. “I have an appointment on Monday, and you’re welcome to drive me around. Not into the room, though.”

“And is it a…?”

“Psychiatrist,” Danny supplies, making a rolling motion with his hand, “it’s not a bad word.”

“Not an ortho, or some other errand?” Steve insists for clarification.

Danny has a pang of regret that creeps from his chest and lodges into his shoulder. “Not this time. I swear.”

“Okay,” Steve’s shoulders drop, “good.”

Danny has another pang of guilt and takes Steve’s hand, wanting to explain and make Steve feel better too. “Look, it’s hard for me to talk about this, you know that, but it’s not your fault, I’ve always been a bit goofy in the head.” He wiggles his fingers at the side of his head for good measure. “And it’s not the first time it gets away from me, you know this. I’m sorry I scared you.”

Steve squeezes Danny’s hand, in lieu of saying, “yes you did, and I know, and I love you.”

“You know,” Steve clears his throat before continuing, “I get the feeling we’re going to be apologising for a long while,” he half-smiles, “in the meantime, you want some more coffee?”

Danny swallows his response as Charlie walks in, dinosaur trailing behind him being dragged by its tail.

“Uncle Steve, you stayed!” The kid’s face lights up the whole room and Steve’s never been surer of where he needs to be.

Steve is idly scrolling through his phone on one end of the couch as Charlie sits far at the other end, watching cartoons. There might as well be a barbed-wire fence between them.

“Hey, I’m going to take a shower,” Danny announces into the room. Steve looks up, startled, side-eyeing Charlie, who on his part chirps “okay, Danno.”

Steve frowns and Danny points his chin at Charlie, clearly conveying “do something”, before he resolutely turns on his heel and goes to take the quickest shower of his life, but still longer than the standard Navy shower.

He has a moment of doubt as he steps into the bathroom but shakes it off; both Steve and Charlie care very little for his privacy, he’s sure neither of them will hesitate to bust the door in (figuratively and literally) if they need to take refuge by his side.

“Hey, kiddo,” Steve starts after failing to grasp what the cartoon is about. He hates the way he feels, and he’s unsure on how to continue. “I was hoping I could talk with you?”

“Can’t. Busy,” Charlie mutters back, matter of fact, burrowing further down on the couch.

Steve’s hurt, but not surprised.

“Oh-okay, that sounds… okay.”

Charlie stares intently into the TV screen.

Steve waits until a break and tries again, sliding an inch closer to Charlie. “Buddy, I know you’re really busy right now, so I’ll be brief. You’re upset with me, and I wanted to say I’m sorry.” Charlie moves an inch away from Steve. “I should have called you, instead of just leaving you messages with your dad. And I should have been here for you after Danno was out of hospital.” Charlie’s bottom lip sticks out, but his eyes remain glued to the TV. “You needed your co-pilot and I left you hanging, man, I’m sorry.” Charlie’s lower lip wobbles minutely, looking away from the screen for a moment. “And I should have brought presents and chocolate when I came back. Lots of chocolate.”

Charlie turns sharply to Steve, indignant. “You didn’t even get me chocolate?!”

Steve smiles gently. “Of course, I did, kiddo, but I don’t have all my stuff yet, as soon as I get my luggage back, you get your chocolate, I promise.”

Charlie mulls it over in his head.

“Where’s your stuff?”

“My stuff? Like my luggage?” Charlie nods, a strand of hair falling over his forehead. “I had to send it to me over the mail, buddy, I couldn’t move fast enough with all of it.”

Charlie blinks, unimpressed. “My mummy just gets another bag.”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah, buddy, your mum is right, it’s a lot easier to get another bag.”

Charlie nods, satisfied.

“So, do you think we could be friends again?”

Charlie nods again, slower this time. Steve nods as well.

After a beat, Steve offers a hug and Charlie jumps at him, almost throwing him off the couch entirely.

“Oh, this is the best hug ever.”

“You always say that, Uncle Steve.”

“I know, your hugs just keep getting better.” Steve sighs, enjoying the warmth of the embrace.

“Uncle Steve?” Charlie separates slightly from Steve’s chest, looking up to him.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“It’s okay if you didn’t get me any presents.”

“Is it? I thought you once told me I was not allowed into the house unless I had, and I quote, lots of cool toys?”

Charlie shakes his head, his hair scratching Steve’s chin. “I change my mind, I don’t need new toys, I want you to stay.”

Steve’s chest does the little dance he has grown to recognise as a fierce need to protect this tiny little boy. And he hugs him one more time for good measure.

“Don’t worry, kiddo, I’m staying put, and you still get a few toys in a couple of days, okay?”

“Okay.”

Another second goes by, and the next episode of whatever Charlie is watching starts. Charlie wriggles free of Steve’s arms and turns his focus back on the TV in one smooth action, like their conversation never happened.

Steve looks behind him and sure enough, Danny’s there, wet hair dripping into his damp clothes, no shoes and t-shirt askew. But a big smile on his face, the first one of the kind Steve has seen since he got here.

“You in a hurry?” Steve asks, knowing full well Danny barely dried himself before stepping into his clothes.

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure what I was going to find when I came out. Everything okay?”

“I think so,” Steve comments, glancing at Charlie, who’s engrossed in his TV series again.

“Good, glad to see you enjoying, uh,” Danny pretends to squint at the TV, “Avatar: The Last Airbender reruns.”

Steve shakes his head slightly and does a double take of the TV. “Wasn’t Avatar supposed to be blue?”

Charlie shushes him without even looking up.

“Sorry,” Steve whispers, mimicking putting a lock at the corner of his lips.

“No, no, don’t shush him, you can pause this thing.” Danny taps gently into his son’s shoulder. “Did you know that, Steve? He’s watching the episodes he missed earlier, commercial breaks and all?” Danny taps Charlie again, and adds a few tickles behind Charlie’s neck. “Did he not tell you? Huh? Did you not tell him?”

“Danno!” Charlie laugh-shrieks.

“Okay, okay, but last episode before you get a bath, okay? I saw some dead flies outside your room this morning, I’m starting to feel sorry for them.”

“Not true!” Charlie protests, as he fiddles with the TV remote control to restart the episode.

“Yes, true!” Danny rebuts and adds an extra tickle. “And you,” he turns to Steve, “you go shower now and let this TV-maniac finish his programme in peace, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, no objections here. Can you lend me some clothes?”

Steve stands, already walking towards Danny’s bedroom.

“Where’s your stuff anyway?”

“Uncle Steve lost his stuff in the mail!”

“What?” Danny says, at the same time Steve adds, “that’s not what happened.”

Charlie finally hits play and settles to rewatch the beginning of the episode.

Danny pulls Steve aside and waits for an explanation.

“I mailed my stuff to Oahu,” Steve rubs his neck, not wanting to get too deep into this, “it’s gonna take a while before it gets here.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously.”

Danny rubs a damp spot on his shirt and nods, knowingly.

“Sure, feel free to take what you need. Do you want to go by your house, pick some stuff up?”

“Umm,” Steve closes his eyes, deftly avoiding having to elaborate an actual answer. Danny will figure it out anyway.

“Nobody else knows you’re here, do they?”

“Mmm,” Steve adds, with all the eloquence he has left. 

“Alright, unless you want to go shopping this afternoon, you better start calling people.”

“Right now, I just want to take a shower.”

“Please, be my guest,” Danny does a little bow and points him to the bedroom.

The rest of the weekend is only punctuated by a few meltdowns on Charlie’s part, but nothing compared to the one Steve witnessed that first day. Steve considers it a win, Danny only comments “we’ll see how it goes” hoping not to jinx it, but also being painfully realistic about it.

Rachel’s face as she sees Steve, as he lives and breathes, in Danny’s living room, in Danny’s clothes is almost worth all the hassle and the conversations he and Steve are not (fully) having. No hard feelings, but he still gets a weird delight in shocking and or surprising her.

By Monday morning it dawns on Danny Steve might be staying for the long haul, much like Danny did a few months back. It warms his heart in a way few things have for the past year. It feels nice to be noticed and loved in that way too. If only he would do the sensible thing and go pick up some clothes. Danny sees a quick trip to the mall during the week.

Steve lowers the magazine he had been fiddling with and waits for Danny to get closer.

Danny crosses the tiny waiting room in two quick steps.

“How did it go?”

“It went,” Danny answers, biting his lower lip, “let’s get out of here.”

“Sure thing, buddy,” Steve agrees, sensing Danny’s discomfort.

Danny seems skittish until they get to the car and right on cue, Danny fidgets on his seat, tell-tale sign there’s something he wants to say. Steve waits him out, putting the key into the ignition and turning it on. The AC comes alive, washing over them. Steve waits some more.

“Look,” Danny starts, frowning, “please don’t get mad.”

“Always a good way to start a conversation,” Steve comments, folding his arms over his chest on reflex.

Danny closes his eyes and flinches away from Steve, “I made you an appointment with my shrink this afternoon.”

“What?!” Steve’s mind boggles.

“I swear I have a good explanation,” Danny cracks one eye open to gauge Steve’s reaction.

“Danny? What the hell?”

Danny turns on the seat to face Steve, hands flying to paint a good picture of how it came to this.

“Look, she’s a great person, she’s funny and caring, and makes you feel like you’re not insane for acting in insane ways, you would love her, but-but-but I-I made you this appointment so you guys can talk and she can recommend you a therapist she thinks would make a good fit for you.” Danny takes a sharp breath of air. “You’re mad, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what to say… no, I don’t know where to start…” Steve trails off.

“Yeah, sorry, I’ll take advantage of your silence. Look, please, indulge me, go meet her, see what she has to offer, if you like her, I’ll look for a new one, so we don’t have to share,” Danny bargains.

“No, don’t do that, please don’t stop seeing someone you feel you can work with on my account.”

Danny smirks. “You haven’t seen her yet, how do you know you’re going to like her as well?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Give me some credit, alright? She’s the one you were seeing before, isn’t she? She’s good, I remember how it was and how much better you were after it.”

“Yeah, about seven years now.”

“Seven years?” Steve does a little maths in his head. “I thought you started after the building collapse.”

“No, after that hellish month when you got called to Germany.”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve agrees, shuddering, “that month sucked.”

Steve had been as affected as Danny, called to do his annual training in Germany no less, where there is no naval station, thus sending Danny’s inner alert straight to Defcon 1. Two weeks training had resulted in a month (and change) long deployment filled back to back with debriefings and interviews of several armed forces personnel in relation to an old op he had participated a lifetime ago. A whole month of not knowing what came next and Danny frantically trying to get him on the phone, only to get the classified spiel at every turn. A truly miserable month if there ever was one.

“It sucked indeed.” Danny agrees, with a touch of sadness. “Anyway, that’s when I met her, and then about a year later decided to go back in for a top up after the parking garage. And then on the regular after Wo-Fat.”

Steve can’t help to notice how much of Danny’s traumas are tied to his own. There’s a brief moment where the guilt he’s being carrying around for over a decade creeps up onto him, Danny does not deserve to be the collateral damage to his drama.

“Are you mad at me?” Danny interrupts his inner thoughts and Steve swallows it all back, unable to process the notion of hurting Danny, even if not by design.

“No, of course not. But… do you really think she can help? I mean, I’m no stranger to shrinks either, though I’m probably less of a frequent flyer than you, it’s just…” He just can’t put it into words.

“Yeah, that’s my point, you go to these assigned bozos who don’t know you really well and are paid by the Navy, and all the time you’re trying to outsmart them into thinking you’re not broken; you don’t have to do that anymore. You’re out, babe, no need to pretend you’re functional, and even better, what Francine is offering—

“You call your doctor by her name?”

Danny pulls a face, but marches on. “What she’s offering is the possibility to find someone right for you, who you can—I don’t know—connect with, without having to hide.”

“You put a lot of thought into this, didn’t you?”

“Not really, but it—it came up, okay, and I thought, I—” Danny looks flustered for a second. “ _Look, are you doing it or not?_ ”

The torrent of guilt and pain itches under Steve’s skin.

“Yeah. I am.”

Danny smiles, hiding it by putting on his seatbelt.

“Good. Great.” He’s curt on purpose, but doesn’t mean int. “Now take me to lunch and then to the pharmacy, I need to pick up a few things.”

Steve smiles broadly, basking into the warmth of this backwards normalcy. “Aye, aye, captain.”

Danny watches a frowny Steve walk in front of the car and grumpily open the passenger door and slump into the seat. He stares into the glove box like it’s about to explode.

Danny gives it a second, and a couple of hand gestures, that elicit zero response, before he says, “so? How did it go?”

Steve, without missing a beat, answers, “it went.”

Danny frowns. “Does this mean you made me an appointment with some other quack for tomorrow? Didn’t we do this already?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “No, she was good—actually, she was great!”

Danny nods, pouting, “okay, so what’s with the face?”

“She won’t take me as her client.”

“What? Why not?”

Steve groans. “She says we won’t make a good fit, and that she knows people who can do the work in less time than she can, it’s not that it won’t work, it’s that it won’t be fast enough.”

“Well, that sounds… efficient? I thought you liked efficient.”

Steve gives him a look.

“Yeah, okay, sorry, it sucks. I know it sucks. Therapist shopping sucks, babe, I know. Been there, done that, got the thousand-dollar bill in my inbox.” A faint smile crosses Steve’s face. “But that was the whole point of seeing her, man. Didn’t she give you a referral? Options?”

Steve sighs. “She gave me a referral, yes. And she works with TRICARE. And she made her sound awesome.”

“Okay, good. That’s that.” Danny nods, putting the key into the ignition.

“She also said some other things.”

“Oh boy.” Danny lays back into his seat, waiting for Steve to fill him in, except he clams up, looking down to his shoes. Danny can tell he’s trying, but no words are coming.

“Babe, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I know, but… who else am I going to talk about this with, Danny?”

“With your new therapist?”

Steve sends him another look; this one stirs something sorrowful in Danny’s chest.

“Sorry. You can tell me… if you can.”

Steve starts and then pauses, chewing on his words. “It’s not something she said, it’s the way she said it, and I think if she can see it… if she… then…”

“See what, babe?”

“No, never mind,” Steve shakes his head.

“Steve.” Danny admonishes.

“Look, this is not about therapy, or me going away, or coming back, it’s not even about you being depressed and having suicidal thoughts. It’s about—"

Steve throws his arms, frustrated by the lack of sense he’s making.

“Babe, I swear to you it’s more than okay if you can’t say it, maybe you can write it or maybe you just need more time, it’s okay, we’ve got time. I’m not going away, I’m not—and I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud on an idle Monday—but I’m not killing myself, not today or ever.” Danny looks out the windshield, unwantedly revisiting old dark periods of his life. “I’ve been low, _really low_ in my life, but I know I have people that count on me, and I also know, that no matter how bad it gets, it will be better later. That’s why I went to the hospital, because I was having problems staying on target, but I did what matters, I kept myself safe, okay?” The words taste of embarrassment rolling off his tongue, but he’s glad he said them. “I’m here, and I’m staying put.”

Steve, who had started tapping into his phone around halfway Danny’s speech, shoves it into Danny’s hand as his sole response.

Danny reads the couple of lines written in there and then reads them again.

“ _Oh._ ”

He looks up, Steve’s eyes are round and wet but expectant.

“And how did you come to this revelation?”

Steve presses his back into the door but perseveres. “She made me realise if this had happened to any other person, I would have called, I would have called some one else to be there, I would have woken up half of Oahu to get help in time, I would have used every contact, and favour and I would have been very worried, and maybe a little bit guilty, but I wouldn’t have dropped everything, mailed me my own fucking luggage and come running. I would only do that for you.”

Danny nods in understanding. It’s the same thing he would have done for Steve, the same thing he has done many times.

“As a general rule,” Danny starts, slowly, not wanting to trip up on the thousand thoughts running through his head. “I don’t make life changing decisions when I’m—for lack of a better word, out of my mind. Today I’m on a high, but I don’t know where I’ll be in two weeks.” Steve blinks rapidly, going through heartbroken and pitiful in quick succession before his defences spring up into place. “But, but—please don’t give me that look yet—my answer is yes, I love you too, and now that you’re not in Five-0 anymore, things are exponentially less complicated, and you should probably know I already started my paperwork to retire,” Danny checks on Steve reaction to the news, congratulating himself on Steve’s surprised eyes. “So, why don’t we revisit this talk in about a month? You think you can find actual words a month from now?”

Steve blinks his shock away, nodding and smiling slowly. “I think I can do you one better.”

Danny raises his eyebrows, waiting.

“I’ll go check out that other therapist, I’ll find my words in there, and then come back to you.”

Danny chuckles. Impressed. And quite frankly stunned.

“I can’t believe it only took me ten years to put you into therapy.”

Steve chuckles, relaxing as the tone of the conversation lightens. “Only you could do it, babe, only you.”

Danny senses the shift, and puts on his seatbelt, ready to go home.

“Just to be clear,” Danny says as he starts the car, “I know your intention is to hunker down in my house and pretend you don’t exist for about a week—

“Out of concern for you,” Steve adds, putting on his seatbelt.

“Concern for me, of course,” Danny mocks, but continues, “however well intended your stay is, I just want you to know you need new clothes, if not a whole set, new t-shirts, you’re kinda ruining mine.”

“I am not ruining your clothes,” Steve protest with no heat behind it whatsoever. “Your clothes are tiny, that’s the real issue.”

“Tiny?” Danny echoes, smiling broadly, changing gears to merge into traffic.

And this, this could be their new normal, the best parts of the old, and something new, the most exciting bits yet to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is it folks, hopefully you've enjoyed the ride. 
> 
> I should have called this the "never ending fic" I thought of a hundred tangential plotlines that all deserved to be properly explored and only ended up including a few. That's why it took me so long. But it was a fun ride, going from despising the ground under Steve's feet to not being angry at him anymore, to actually sympathetic to his character again. 
> 
> Thank you for the support <3


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